


Connection

by prepare4trouble



Series: Little By Little [28]
Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Connections through the Force, Coping, Dokma, Ezra needs a hug, Gen, Kanan could probably do with one too if I'm honest, Kanan is a poor role model sometimes, People Saying Stupid Stuff, References to Depression, Visually Impaired Ezra Bridger, coping badly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-05
Updated: 2017-05-07
Packaged: 2018-10-28 11:09:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10830057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prepare4trouble/pseuds/prepare4trouble
Summary: Ezra has a bad day, Kanan tries to help.  It doesn't go entirely to plan.





	1. Chapter 1

It was official. Ezra was an idiot.

Well, it had been Wedge’s fault really. Only, the more he thought about it — and the short exchange had been going around and around in Ezra’s mind for the past half hour — the more he was convinced that Wedge had somehow managed to be the last person on the base to know.

It wasn’t like there had been any awkwardness in his voice. His face hadn’t done that… thing, that everybody else’s had. He hadn’t sounded curious, there had been no hint of pity, no weirdness. He had simply seen Ezra and wandered over to say hello, and ask how he was. That was just what people did when they hadn’t seen their friends in a few days, and Wedge had left on a mission to the Cathonie system a few days ago, and he had only arrived back that afternoon, so unless someone had ambushed him with the latest gossip as he got off the ship, he couldn’t possibly have heard.

Ezra groaned out loud and drove a fist hard into the surface of his bunk. Why did _that_ have to be the comment that had pushed him over the edge? Why couldn't it have been the engineer that had winced every time either of them had said ‘see’ or ‘look’, or the girl he barely knew that had come over and hugged him unexpectedly, told him he was going to be fine, and then fled? Why couldn’t he have yelled at one of them instead?

Now that he thought about it, going out of the Ghost at all had been a pretty stupid idea. He should have stayed there and laid low until the worst of it was over and people had found something new to talk about. Because they would, eventually. There was always something happening, he wouldn’t be interesting forever.

He hoped... 

What he had been thinking, was that he would be able to convince Sato that he was fit for duty by actually doing things. Working, helping out, and hoping that what he was doing would get back to the Commander when he returned to the base. Now that he actually thought about it, it had never been going to work. Sato probably expected him to keep doing that stuff anyway, and had still grounded him.

Well, so much for that.

Idiot.

In his defense, it turned out there were a lot of other idiots out there too.

_“Going blind has always been one of my worst fears. You’re so brave. I don’t know how you’re keeping it together like that. Honestly, I’d be sitting in the corner crying.”_

Ugh. That might have been the worst one. He wasn't sure, there was a lot of competition. The words echoed around his head again, and he allowed them to do so this time, rather than push them away. Better to think about that than about how _he_ was the idiot.

_“Going blind has always been one of my worst fears…”_

It was funny, but it wasn’t something that Ezra had ever even thought about until, well, recently. Even having grown up around his aunt, knowing that she couldn’t see, he had never considered what that might be like. He’d been too young, probably. That was probably for the best, he doubted that years of experience in worrying would have helped him out any.

He hadn’t even thought about it after that long-ago appointment with the nurse, where he had first heard the words ‘Sacul Syndrome’. Of course, they hadn’t been directed at himself then, it had been something from some far-off, theoretical future where he actually managed not only to grow up, but to grow old.

It hadn’t been until the night when the list of problems and mild concerns in his head had grown that little bit too long to ignore, when he had finally decided that it was time to search for a description of the syndrome, that the idea of losing his sight had even occurred to him. Even then, the research had been reassuring. Well, until it hadn’t been; until he had found that tiny footnote mentioning the existence of an early onset variety.

Then, of course, it had become _all_ he thought about.

Or rather, he had begun to alternate between thinking about it — worrying and panicking about it — and convincing himself that he was imagining things, and pushing the thoughts from his mind entirely.

He had been an idiot then too. He should have noticed sooner that something was wrong. It wouldn't have _helped_ anything, but at least he would have had more time to… well, to worry, stress, and not do anything productive, probably. Maybe he should have waited, done his research much later.

Or not at all. That way none of this would have happened.

Of course, _some_ of it would have happened, and by now he would have had to have been pretty deep in denial not to have realized that something was very wrong. Maybe the day would have played out exactly the same. The only real thing that he could have done differently was to not be such an idiot. Ezra sighed deeply. All Wedge had done was ask how he was. Even if he _had_ heard, that wasn’t a bad thing. Especially compared to some of the others.

He tried to make a conscious effort not to think any more. Not about Wedge, not about the engineer with the sympathetic tone and the accidentally hurtful words. Not about anything. Still lying on his side facing away from the door, one arm curled under his head for support, he stared directly forward at the dull, gray, wall.

It wasn’t a particularly interesting wall. There were several breaks between the panels, where one began and another ended. There were a few scratches there, scuff marks, stains, but nothing to hold his attention. It didn’t matter; he stared directly ahead, taking in every detail. Not because it was a thing that he wanted to remember; simply because the activity used brainpower; thinking about that meant not thinking about other things.

_“Hey, Ezra. How many fingers?”_

That one might have been a deliberate attempt to make him feel bad. Or, it might have been a joke, intended to lighten the mood. If so, it had fallen flat.

Ignore it. Back to the wall. It might not be interesting, but it was something that he could concentrate on. Something that was there right now, something to distract him without having to muster the energy to get up and do something. Once, he had considered asking Sabine to liven it up a bit. Then he had come to his senses and remembered that he didn’t particularly want to have to look a picture of himself doing something embarrassing every night before he went to bed.

She probably wouldn’t do that now, if he asked her. She _had_ promised not to make fun of him in art that he couldn’t see. He wasn’t completely sure how that would work, whether the embarrassing drawings and paintings would stop now, or whether she would wait until… later. It didn’t matter, he wasn’t going to ask her to paint the wall. They both knew he would only be able to enjoy -- or hate it -- it for so long, and it would just be awkward for both of them.

Anyway, it was just a wall. It was functional. It didn’t need it look nice. Nothing did, really. What was the point?

He wasn’t going to be able to cope with this. It wasn’t even his condition and what it would mean in a few years’ time; it was other people's reactions to it. He felt like it would be easier if people would just ignore it, pretend it wasn’t happening, but for some reason they couldn’t. They had only really started to find out three days ago, and already he felt like he was drowning in… he didn’t even know what it was. Sympathy, pity, _stupidity_ …? And he didn’t know when, or even if, it was going to get better.

_“Hey, how’s it going?”_

Stupid Wedge. Why couldn’t he just have heard already? Why did he have to have gone on the mission? If he had been on the base, he would have heard, and then he probably wouldn’t have come over and asked how Ezra was, because he would have already known the answer. Or maybe he would have asked, but it would have been weird, and Ezra could have been justified in yelling and running away.

Okay, no. That was ridiculous. No matter how hard he tried, there was no way that he was going to be able to convince himself that it had been anybody else’s fault but his own.

Of course, if it hadn’t been for the other comments, the genuinely stupid ones, he would probably have reacted better to Wedge; less like an idiot. So really it _was_ everybody else’s fault.

Somehow, that didn’t make it any better.

Somewhere behind him, he was vaguely aware of the door opening. Zeb returning to the room, he presumed. He didn’t bother to turn, to acknowledge him. If he stayed still, Zeb might think he was asleep, and they wouldn’t have to talk.

“Hey.”

Ezra flinched, surprised. Kanan’s voice coming from the direction of the door surprised him. Still, he remained where he was. Kanan might know that he wasn’t sleeping, but he should be able to take take a hint.

“So,” Kanan said. “Are you planning on getting up today, or…?” He tailed off expectantly.

So much for taking a hint. Ezra turned over slowly and came to rest lying on his other side. Kanan was still just on the outside of the door. As though the movement had been an invite, he chose that moment to step inside and allow the door to close behind him. Kanan folded his arms and leaned casually against the wall, clearly still waiting for an answer

Ezra shifted on the bed. “I got up,” he said. “Then I thought, what’s the point? Not like I can do anything right now, Sato’s banned me from missions because he doesn’t trust me.”

“He trusts you,” Kanan told him. “It’s just… you can see where he’s coming from.”

“Yes, I _can_ see that,” Ezra said, seizing on the word in the same way as the engineer had earlier that afternoon, “I can still _see_ everything. Including what a bad idea it was to tell everybody. If I just hadn’t mentioned it, none of this would have happened.” Of course, that wouldn’t have worked in the long run, but he probably would have still been getting away with it so far.

“Okay.” Kanan nodded, but sounded unconvinced. He didn’t comment on the obvious fault in his logic. “Well, none of us are on a mission right now. We do other things, nobody else is lying in bed.”

Ezra sighed. Technically, he was _on_ the bed rather than in it, but it was difficult to make that distinction when he didn’t have a blanket to hide under or lie on top of. Still, there was a whole world of difference between getting up and dressed, going out, and then returning to bed; and not bothering to get up at all. Anyway, Kanan hardly had grounds to complain about anybody else deciding to take some time out. He didn’t bother saying either of those things, it might lead to an argument, and he didn’t have the energy.

“Find me something I can do on my own, and I will. I just don’t want to be around them right now,” he said instead.

“Them?”

“Anybody. You guys are fine, I guess, but everybody else…”

Kanan nodded. “Sabine mentioned you’ve been having to put up with some… comments.”

Ezra resisted the urge to turn away again, and for a second time, wished for a blanket to hide underneath. He had mentioned it to Sabine, in passing. He hadn’t explicitly told her it was a secret. It wasn’t a secret. He just hadn’t expected it to get back to Kanan that quickly.

Kanan snorted, a sharp, possibly amused, expulsion of air from his nostrils. “Has anybody tried waving a hand in front of your face yet?”

“What?” Ezra pushed himself up on his elbows to look at Kanan. The Jedi was smiling, but with the mask in place covering his eyes, and the dim light from the single bulb shining from the wrong direction, it was difficult to make out whether or not it was a genuine one. “No, of course not!”

“No? I’ve had that one a few times,” Kanan told him. “But I guess in my case some of them probably thought I wouldn’t notice, they know you will.”

“Wait…” Ezra sat up and swung his legs around to the side of his bed, his complaints temporarily forgotten. “People actually _do_ that to you? Multiple people? As in more than one?”

Kanan shrugged. “Not so much any more. They’ve mostly gotten used to it now, it’s not so much of a novelty. But three so far, that I know of.”

Ezra shook his head, fury welling up from somewhere deep inside him. “But…”

“One man came over to me, not long after it happened and said — and he spoke so loudly I could actually feel my eardrums vibrate — _‘I’m so sorry the Rebellion is losing you, but don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll be able to contribute in other ways’._ Then he asked if I could cook.”

The angle of the light still thwarted Ezra’s attempt to see read Kanan’s emotions. He could have reached out with the Force to know for certain, but Kanan wasn’t projecting anything, and to go searching felt like an intrusion. The smile had disappeared, that much he could tell for certain. “What did you say?” Ezra asked, quietly.

“Nothing,” Kanan told him. “I decided to go back to bed. And I stayed there for three days, until Hera forced me to get up. Do you think that helped anything?”

Ezra frowned. One point to Kanan.

“So what should I do?” he asked.

Kanan shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said.

Those were not the pearls of wisdom that Ezra had been anticipating. He slumped slightly. “Great. Thanks.”

“What works for me won’t necessarily work for you.” Kanan said. “But remember, mostly, people are trying to help, I mean, some of them are doing a terrible job of it, but they aren’t actually trying to hurt you. Most of them.”

He knew that. It didn’t help. It _especially_ didn’t help when he thought of some of his own behaviours around Kanan, even recently. He hadn’t been trying to imply that Kanan wasn’t capable, he had just been trying to help; trying to make things easier for him. And now that he thought about it, he realized how _un_ helpful that had probably been.

“What other people think isn’t important,” Kanan added. “And I know it’s difficult to believe that, but eventually you will, and when that happens, you’ll find your own way to deal with them. But one thing I can tell you is that hiding in here will only make things feel worse.”

Ezra glanced around the small room and sighed. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, Kanan was right. Lying there going over and over things in his head wasn’t going to help. Every moment that he wasted staring at the walls of his quarters was a moment that he could have spent looking at something else; something that he actually wanted to see. He was going to have to face the world eventually, better to get used to it now, because the longer he hid away, the more difficult it would become to emerge.

It was beginning to feel difficult enough already.

“Fine.” He sighed, and swung his legs around to hang over the edge of the bed, then smoothed down some of the creases in his clothing. “Give me something to do, and I’ll try it your way.”

“Okay.” Kanan frowned thoughtfully. “How about the dokma? There are even more of them today. See if you can figure out what’s going on with them, and maybe what we can do about it.”

He wasn’t wrong. While at first, a combination of his deteriorating eyesight and the fact that he was thinking about other things had made it easy for him not to notice the increasing numbers of the creatures, now that had become impossible. You could barely walk from one place to another without having to step around them. Ezra had taken to moving around the base with his eyes trained on the ground just before his feet, and he wasn’t the only one.

He wondered how Kanan was managing. Although, in fact, the Jedi was probably the only person on the base who hadn’t tripped over at least one dokma.

“No promises,” he said. “They’re not exactly intelligent, it might just be one of those things.”

“Just see what you can find out,” Kanan said.

Ezra shuffled forward and dropped down from his bunk to land on the ground. He started toward the door, then paused. “Kanan, after Malachor, when... if I ever did, or said anything that…”

“You didn’t,” Kanan interrupted, stopping him before he was able to stumble through the awkward apology.

“Oh. Okay. Good.” He hesitated again. “When people did, though… How long did it take you to get used to that?”

It was Kanan’s turn to pause, mid-turn on his way to follow Ezra out of the door. He shook his head. “I think it’s more a case of learning how to deal with it, and waiting for it to go away.”

“And when did it…” Ezra stopped himself. He knew the answer to that question already. It hadn’t gone away. Not yet.

Great. He wondered if it ever would.


	2. Chapter 2

It had gotten worse since the last time he had been outside, as though a new wave of dokma had descended on the base over the past few hours. Ezra stepped carefully over one and around another, staring at the ground before him as he did. They weren’t evenly spaced; standing around in small clusters, or wandering around alone, some patches of ground were filled with the creatures, while some areas were almost entirely clear.

Ezra tried to stick to the clear patches, stepping over the dokma only when necessary; he had learned the hard way that they liked to move unexpectedly, getting underfoot as he carefully stepped to avoid them. He didn’t _think_ they were doing it on purpose, but they were definitely doing it.

He glanced over at Kanan, stopping walking as he did — to try to keep moving without watching his step would have been hazardous. The Jedi faced straight ahead, setting him apart from the people around them, all of whom very obviously kept their focus on the ground. He was sure that it was taking concentration, probably a lot of concentration, for Kanan to avoid the dokma, but he was able to hide it more easily. He stepped amongst them in a way that appeared entirely casual.

“So, I guess you weren’t kidding when you said there were more of them,” Ezra said He turned to avoid a cluster of the creatures. Over to his left, two people were picking up the dokma one at a time and loading them into a hover crate, presumably with the intention of transporting them off of the base. They were very obviously fighting a losing battle, and if it wasn’t for the fact that the dokma were causing so much trouble, it might even have been funny.

Actually, no. It was still funny.

“What?” Kanan asked, and for a moment Ezra thought that he had read his mind, until he realized that he had been chuckling quietly to himself.

“Nothing. Just, that guy the other day was right. Forget the Empire, it’s the dokma that are going to take down the Rebellion.”

Kanan smiled and planted a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s just see if we can do anything to stop that happening.”

“I dunno, I’m not sure there’s anything we can do against an enemy this fearsome.” Ezra carefully picked his way through the minefield of creatures littering the way.

Near the perimeter of the base, the number of dokma began to thin out a little, as did the number of people. He glanced at Kanan. “Here seems fine,” he said.

“Yeah. If you’re looking for a place with nobody around.”

As it happens, he was. Not just for the obvious reason. Fewer people meant fewer distractions, which meant it would be easier to concentrate on what he was doing. “Hey,” he said, “you asked me to try and connect to the dokma, not the people.”

Kanan shrugged. “Hard to argue with that.”

Ezra turned and looked around. “There’s a lot less dokma over here too, it’s like the closer to the center of the base you get, the more of them there are.” He sat down on the ground and closed his eyes before reaching out to make a connection to the closest creature. “Hey,” he opened one eye to look at Kanan. “There’s nothing new there, is there? Nothing that might be attracting them?”

Kanan shook his head. “Not as far as _I_ know.”

Ezra shrugged and closed his eyes again. “Too bad. That would’ve made this whole thing a lot easier. Okay, here goes…”

Making a connection to another living being was easy. Well, now it was. He wasn’t sure at what point he had realized that he had a talent for it; that his ability in that regard had already surpassed that of his master. It was strange to think that there was something — some Force thing — that he could do that Kanan could not. Of course, Kanan could connect to the spiders…

The thought of them provoked a wave of primal fear, rising up from somewhere deep within him, the predators, fast-moving, deadly, ready to devour him given half a chance; unstoppable. Only, they had been stopped. Safety. He needed to keep moving, but he was safe here…

It wasn’t until that moment that he realized that the simple thoughts and emotions he was experiencing were not his own. He broke the connection, opened his eyes and blinked a few times. Kanan, still standing nearby, didn’t appear to have noticed that anything had happened.

Ezra took a breath, and reached out again, connecting to a different dokma this time. He got the same feelings: danger, safety, and a need to move, to be somewhere. It was the same with every creature.

He pressed a little harder now, going deeper, searching for more; for where they needed to be, for whether the danger came just from the krykna, or whether it was from the place they had come from. Why did they need to move? He stuck with the one creature with which he had formed the last connection. Its mind was so simple, so basic. It was unconcerned with anything outside of its own existence; not in a selfish way, it had no concept of that, it was simply fulfilling its purpose, and the other beings around it, those not perceived as a threat, did not interest it.

He didn’t even think it was interested in the being currently sharing its thoughts. Ezra wasn’t harming it, he was therefore unimportant. He could feel the creature moving, traveling around the base. It did not sit still for him. It was behind him now, moving away at a speed much greater than he had ever seen in the dokma races. It stopped as it reached the perimeter, turned to its left, continued on.

He couldn’t see it, of course. But he was aware of it. Like a single point of light in a dark room, he could track the creature, but its disinterest in the world around it, possibly even its inability to perceive the structures of the base as anything more than geographical features, meant that all he could get was the creature’s location relative to himself.

Still, it was something. Possibly even something that he could work with.

It was tempting to stay with the dokma for a little longer. They didn’t care who he was, they weren’t interested in him, or how well his eyes worked. They didn’t have any questions, any judgements. They simply were. It was freeing, in a way. It was like taking a vacation inside his own mind.

He wondered whether this was what it was like for Kanan when he meditated; whether that was the thing that he had never quite been able to achieve; breaking free from the world while still remaining a part of it, allowing his mind to rest while still working hard. Feeling a connection and concentrating on that; allowing the Force to flow through him, and feeling it flow through the world around him.

It was good. But he realized as these thoughts hit him, that it was over, the connection was broken and he was alone again, cross-legged on the sandy floor surrounded by creatures. He opened his eyes, and froze.

It was dark. Probably not completely, but as close to it as made no difference to him. On the horizon, far beyond the perimeter beacons, he could make out the pinkish glow of the setting sun. As he turned to the base, he saw lights shining, illuminating the way for the people who happened to be there. They didn’t reach him and Kanan.

Kanan. He turned to check that he was still there, and could see the vaguest silhouette against the lights far behind him. He raised a hand to eye-level and stared, trying to will himself to see it. It wasn’t that dark; it couldn’t be. Not if the sky still glowed with color.

Between himself and the base, he faced a sea of invisible, moving obstacles, and he had no idea how he was going to make it back to the safety of the well-lit areas and the Ghost.

“Ezra?”

There was mild concern in Kanan’s voice. His silhouette moved, with a rustling of fabric and the sound of boots on dry, sandy earth as he got to his feet. Kanan had been seated, waiting, for… how long? The passage of time completely eluded him; he had no idea of when he had actually gone outside. Not performing any of his usual duties, not sticking to set mealtimes, it was easy to lose track. Maybe he hadn’t sat there so long after all, maybe it had already been early evening when he had seated himself down amongst the dokma.

“Ezra?” Kanan said again. “What is it, are you okay?”

He pushed his thoughts and the mild panic aside for the moment, and took a deep breath. He forced his voice to appear relaxed as he spoke. He doubted that Kanan would be fooled, but there was a good chance that he hadn’t realized that it had gone dark around them, and then at least wouldn’t know the reason for Ezra’s worry.

Yeah, sure,” he said. “Um, so the dokma are trying to get someplace,” he said. “It’s like a migration, or something. I don’t know why — I don’t think _they_ even know why, but they’re afraid of the spiders, and they’ve noticed it’s safe here.”

“So they’re planning on sticking around?” Kanan asked.

Ezra shook his head. His own inability to see anything right now reminded him of the futility of gestures like that around Kanan, but he didn’t stop himself. “I don’t think they’re ‘planning’ on anything. They’re not exactly intelligent, they’re just doing what they do, you know? But the urge to get to wherever it is they’re going is pretty strong, so I doubt they’ll be able to resist it for much longer.”

Kanan hummed thoughtfully. “So you think they’ll be moving on soon?”

“I guess?” Ezra shrugged. “These guys, anyway. I can’t guarantee that more won’t come along to replace them. Their minds are so _simple_ though. Even more than anything else I’ve tried to connect to before. It’s tough to get much from them.” He frowned. “Have you just been sitting there this whole time? How long has it been?”

“An hour or so. I took the opportunity to meditate,” Kanan told him. “Sitting with you, feeling your openness to the Force. That’s what I’ve been talking about all this time, that’s what you need to be able to do.”

Connecting to the dokma was not the same as connecting to everything else, but he took Kanan’s point. If nothing else, it had been a pleasant break from reality. A reality into which he had been unceremoniously plunged once again, the instant that he had opened his eyes.

He reached out through the Force, forming a loose connection to one of the nearer creatures. As before, he was able to locate it in the darkness that surrounded him. He could use that to not trip over one creature. Against thousands, it wasn’t worth much. Could he do it again and again until he… no, that wouldn't work. That particular skill wasn’t going to help him much right now.

“Well, we’ll see if they start to move on soon; if it looks like they’re sticking around, we’ll have to try making the place feel less safe for them.”

He wasn’t sure whether it was real or a trick of his mind, but beyond the perimeter beacons, Ezra was sure he could hear the movement of the spiders. He shuddered. Short of switching off the beacons and letting the krykna inside, he didn’t think there was much that they would be able to do. He was also reasonably sure the dokma wouldn’t stick around much longer, the urge to get to wherever it was that they were going was strong.

Now, if only they would just decide to go there _right now_ , he might have a chance of getting back to the Ghost without Kanan realizing how much trouble he was in.

Too bad that was never going happen.

“Well, it’s gotten kinda late,” Kanan said. “We should probably get back before people start to wonder where we are.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Ezra set his lips in a thin line and began to get to his feet. This was going to be interesting. And by interesting, he meant nerve-wracking and maybe impossible.

“Ezra?” There was something in Kanan’s voice that made him pause, some kind of confusion, concern.

He tried to keep his tone light as he replied. “Uh…yeah?”

“How dark is it right now?” Kanan spoke slowly, as though he was just working out the answer to to a puzzle, and Ezra felt a chill go through him at the words, despite the warmth of the evening.

He looked around. Honestly, he wasn’t sure. All he knew was that it was dark enough that he couldn’t see. “Why?” he asked, and completely failed to keep the apprehension out of his voice this time.

A pause, and for a moment he thought that Kanan wasn’t going to reply. Then, “Because I’m offering you my hand to help you up, and I don’t think you can see it.”

He couldn’t. He looked, knowing it was there, and he still couldn’t. The vague shape that was Kanan lacked any kind of detail, and if Kanan really was offering him a hand, he didn’t know which one, or whether he had stopped offering when Ezra hadn’t accepted the help. He hesitated. He could guess, and reach for the approximate place, but that could make things worse. Instead he got to his feet, dusted himself off and laughed.

“Yeah, of _course_ I saw it. I just didn’t need any help though. But thanks.”

“Okay,” said Kanan, sounding unconvinced. “Let’s go.”

Ezra stared down at his feet, eyes wide, as though if he tried hard enough he would be able to will himself to see. It didn’t work. Instead, he took a careful step, sliding his foot forward, an inch off the ground so that it wouldn’t make a sound; searching for dokma without — hopefully without — telling Kanan what was happening.

It was petty, he knew that, but he just didn’t want anybody, not even Kanan, to know how bad it was. Not yet. There would come a time when it would be so much worse and everybody would know. But for now, most of the time, he was okay. This was a momentary aberration, not important, and able to be resolved just as soon as he had a little light. There was no reason for anybody to know.

He took another cautious step, feeling his hands begin to rise ahead of him even though he had walked this way on the way out and knew there was nothing but dokma in his way. He could feel his heart beating far too hard and too quickly, and what had seemed a short distance earlier, now seemed impossibly far. Another step. He could see the lights ahead of him. He needed to _be_ there.

“You’re clear for about four steps if you keep going in that direction,” Kanan told him.

Ezra stopped. “I know that!” he said, then shook his head. Kanan knew he was lying, Kanan probably knew everything. He felt himself slump slightly. “Don’t help me,” he said. “I can do it.”

He couldn’t do it. He took another two steps with a little more confidence, trusting Kanan, but then stopped. The dokma moved, so just because the way had been clear, didn’t mean that it still was. He took a deep breath, and resumed his careful exploration with the tips of his toes. After another few steps, he hit a dokma, and felt the creature scurry away, frightened.

He knew the feeling.

“Remember the technique you showed me?” Kanan asked him. “Using the Force to sense the ground ahead of you? You told me you’d done it once or twice, do you think you could use it now?”

A wave of frustration washed over him and Ezra tried to ignore it. He did as Kanan suggested, annoyed at himself for not having thought of it sooner. He swept the ground ahead of him, and found it clear for another step. And again, a dokma just ahead of his left foot, he stepped around it, paused to bolster his concentration. Swept the ground again.

It was exhausting. It was also something that he would very rarely need to do. Yet. Most of the time. There was no wonder that Kanan had learned so much as quickly as he had. Faced with this all the time; worse than this, without even the promise of a light at the end of the field of dokma, he’d had no choice but to do it, and as he had, to slowly strengthen his ability to sense the world around him.

Maybe that was the only way that Ezra would be able to learn too, by doing. It was how he had learned every skill that he had ever acquired before, after all. He would never have learned to survive on the streets by rehearsing it ahead of time, because nothing could have prepared him; he had learned by being thrust into that environment, having no choice but to adapt to his circumstances. He couldn’t have learned to pluck valuables from the pockets of oblivious people on the street by studying the theory; he had learned by trying, and failing. By being noticed, and fleeing, and trying again, and again, because failure meant starvation, and being caught could mean worse.

He would never have learned how to use the Force by simply studying and thinking about the ideas surrounding it. He had needed to do it for himself, to make those connections, to move those objects. You couldn't learn how to do something without actually doing it.

“You’re doing great,” Kanan told him.

And Kanan, of course, knew that better than anybody. Ezra turned to face him, or rather, to face the point in the darkness that his voice had come from. “Did you do this on purpose?” he demanded.

“Do what?” Kanan asked. He sounded genuinely confused. Well, maybe he thought that Ezra was accusing him of causing the sunset.

“Let me sit there while it went dark, until I couldn’t…” He stopped. No. Kanan wouldn’t do that; and he hadn’t even realized it was dark. “Forget it,” he said quickly. “Doesn’t matter.”

He scanned the ground for obstacles again, stepped around a dokma, and straight into another one. Ordinarily, he wouldn't have fallen — or he didn’t think he would have fallen — but with nothing around him, no landmarks to remind him which way was up, he succumbed to a wave of disorientation that didn’t resolve itself until he found himself on the ground with his hands grazed from the fall.

Frustration and despair washed over him, and it was all he could do not to give in to the temptation to stay there, sitting on the ground, waiting for the sun to come up.

Maybe Sato was right. If he couldn’t walk across the base, he had no business being in a situation where people were relying on him. Of course, this was a _very_ unusual situation, and if he had been on a mission, he would have made sure he was prepared. At the very least, he would have brought a flashlight.

He _really_ wished he had brought a flashlight.

A hand tapped him twice on the shoulder. Kanan again, letting him know where he was. Kanan then tapped his fingers on the back of Ezra’s hand, an offer of assistance. He accepted the offered hand this time and got back to his feet, then pulled his hand away immediately, refusing to give into the temptation to hold on. “I’m fine,” he said, before Kanan could ask.

“I know. But if you want me to guide…”

“No,” Ezra cut him off. “I’m fine.” He took another step. He was shaking; he could feel his hands trembling. It wasn’t fear, just shock; just the fall, and the darkness, and the whole situation. He clenched them into fists, but as he did, realized that his whole body was trembling too, like the panic had just caught up with him. He took another deep breath, and another, and they shook too. His eyes burned with tears threatening to fall.

No. He couldn’t do this here. Not where people might see him. Not with Kanan standing right there. He needed to be alone. He needed…

“Okay,” he said. “Fine. Yes.” He sucked in a deep breath. “Please.”

Kanan reached for Ezra’s hand and placed it on his elbow. It was a position he recognized, one they had used with their places reversed. Kanan began to walk, steering him around some of the dokma, giving instructions of when to step over others.

He knew that he was holding far too tightly, that his fingers were betraying his emotions as they pressed into Kanan’s arm, but he couldn’t make himself stop. This was both better and worse than picking his own way through the dokma; better, because he could see the lights getting closer far more quickly than before, but so much worse, to be relying on somebody else.

He had never needed anybody else. Not for a long time. Wanted, yes, but needed in that way? It was an uncomfortable feeling, like he had passed a point of no return.

Slowly, he realized that the light level around them was increasing. The world, and the dokma, came back into focus. He looked down, and could see both his feet, and the creatures surrounding them. He allowed his hand to drop from Kanan’s arm, and almost collapsed in relief.

“Hey,” Kanan said. “It’s okay. You made it…”

“Please don’t tell Hera about this,” Ezra said. He didn’t want _anybody_ to know, but of all the people on the base, Hera was the one that Kanan would talk to. And Hera was the one that was going to speak to Sato about his grounding. This wasn’t a normal situation, it wasn’t _relevant_ to that.

Before Kanan could give any kind a response, Ezra turned and bolted with no particular destination in mind. Not the ship; he would run into somebody before he reached his quarters, and even if he didn’t, Zeb might be there, and he didn’t want to deal with that. He just wanted to be alone, somewhere private.

But his hiding places were all too remote; that was the point of them. He turned instead into the center of the base, keeping his head down as he passed anybody, and finally squeezed into the small gap between two of the temporary buildings that had sprung up around the place. There was nobody around, nobody to see as he pressed his back against the wall and sank down to the ground as his legs refused to support him any longer.

He wrapped his arms around his knees, tried to make himself as small as possible and hoped that Kanan would know he didn’t want to be followed. When the Jedi didn’t appear around the corner, he allowed himself to relax, just slightly. Then he closed his eyes, reached out and located one of the many dokma, forging a connection to its simple mind through the Force.

His worries didn’t disappear, but suddenly they seemed much less important.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are, as always, loved. ♥♥


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